Never Trust A Gypsy
by Reptilian Muse
Summary: The Gypsies have returned to Santa Carla, unaware of its new vampire population. Chapter 7 updated.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lost Boys.

She said she had to pee.

Her eyes were wet and sore from the smoke that filtered up from the pit; a number of logs, cans and other extremities had been thrown in during the last portions of the night and the smell was almost rancid, though the beer helped to keep her doubling over.

Paul was on guard-duty, dragging her to the party in the first place, tossing a cold-one in those hands and telling her to chill out while he mingled with all the other young, pretty things that had gathered, some still in bikini's while others paraded in short-shorts and colorful tank tops. She was dressed in tight-fitting pants, a simple white shirt with clips in her black hair to hold it out of her face. She hated the beer but drank four of them anyway, to help ease herself into the situation and gain whatever courage she could for the moments ahead.

The blade was heavy in her pocket. Old-fashioned razor, the kind seen in the older movies where a barber is inches away from slicing open a man's neck as he delicately shaves that foam-covered throat. She'd found it amongst the debris that littered the cave, keeping it hidden and waiting for a night like this to occur.

A night where she continually pestered and whined to David in just the way he hated so that he would send her out of the cave with one of the others to watch her carefully. Normally, the guard was either Dwayne or Marko, but both had other plans tonight and Paul, the wily blonde with a head full of dreams and pants full of unsatisfied cock, had nothing but a party to attend. He'd been stuck with her and from the look he gave when she announced she needed to use the bathroom, she would be guaranteed no interruptions.

She was pointed in the direction of the nearest bathroom that happened to be a good distance away towards the edge of the beach itself. Trudging through the sand, hands fell to those pockets once more and fingers tingled as they ran against the smooth portion of the blade.

Her mind was reeling. David had told her something about how the human mind was an incredible thing because no matter what the situation, it always tried to keep the body alive for as long as it possibly could. To demonstrate his point, he had drained a couple of girls that had been invited back to the cave and forced her to watch as they were all but bloodless and yet still, they crawled weakly along the ground, searching for a way out of this nightmare.

Afterwards when she was sobbing for him to stop and put an end to their lives, he would always tell her that it was a "commencement to your education as a wannabe fledgling."

And she never felt so ashamed.

It was true, though. In the time before she had met David and the others, she had wanted nothing more than to become a vampire. The obsession started with movies, books, posters and bands. The stuff of the Devil and all things considered blasphemy to her uptight, born-again Christian family.

It was a rush; disobeying her parents as she stayed out late, dyed her hair jet black and wore clothing that would make their priest die of a heart attack. It felt good to be rebellious and at first, she did it only to spite them and to gain a sort of freedom from their rules.

But after awhile… it started to be more than just a game. She started to seriously look into the books she was reading. The claims of vampires existing throughout history and daydreaming for hours on end what it would be like to become one of them.

Young, immortal and sexy forever. That was the slogan.

And then, as though through some dark force, her prayers had been answered. It had happened during a hot, summer night beneath the pier. Five of them had gathered, four girls and one guy named Kevin, sitting within a circle of candles and chanting softly as they read from their individual copies of the Necromancer.

Kevin kept slurring and ruining the rhythm, though she could feel a dynamic force within the air as she spoke the words softly and shut her eyes, imagining the demons and the power that they were attempting to summon. The winds had howled, candles blowing out one by one around them as voices trailed off and eyes immediately looked to the sky.

It was hard to hear at first. Almost like the sound of giant, flapping wings descending down from the darkness upon them. And moments later, they would find that they were right.

There were four of them; the ones she knew now as Paul, Marko, Dwayne and David, each swooping in and seizing a victim up into the air, letting them scream for personal affect before fangs sunk deep into their twisting necks. Kevin, his girlfriend and the two others were taken, leaving her to sit stunned and watch as blood dropped down from the darkness like a spring rain.

Her mind had been reeling then as well, but years in the darkness had made her a little more sturdy than others and as the bodies of her friends were dropped around her, she managed only a few, desperate screams.

And then, the shadows descended and took form. To her right, a kid that looked to be only a year or so younger than her with spirals of golden hair falling around pale cheeks and deceiving puppy-dog eyes. To her left, another blonde with hair that hadn't seen a brush in ages, licking the blood from his lips and giving her what could only be described as a predatorily stare, up an down the curve of her hunched body. In front of her, a dark-haired man with eyes that seethed angrily into her own and an expression of complete contempt, as though she were entirely beneath him except as possible prey.

And finally… behind her…

Body shuddered as she pushed open the door to the neon-lit bathroom, pausing for a moment in speculative disgust at her surroundings and the idea that she might be found here. It certainly wasn't the way she had hoped to someday be found. The countless suicide notes and cries for attention had all been in vain and she knew now that there had been no dignity in those false pleas.

She knew now that death was means of true release, not revenge.

Again, David had been the one to teach her that. Standing behind her that night beneath the pier, she had finally managed to rise to her feet, turning around and staring with wide, awe-shocked eyes at the villain standing before her. A small trail of blood was at the corner of his mouth and eyes were like razors themselves, cutting into her with all the care and precision of a heart-surgeon.

In an instant, he knew who she was, why she was here and every little secret that had been in her heart and soul. Every desire and whim.

Lips pulled back into a charmingly evil laugh as he finally released her from his gaze and looked around at each of his gang.

"Looks like we finally caught ourselves a wannabe, boys," he said.

The curly-top kid smirked while the wily blonde laughed and the dark-haired native only glared harder. Her body shook uncontrollably as she watched them all, mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish. David seemed to find this amusing as he tilted his head and gave her a considering look.

"What's the matter? Aren't we what you've been searching for all this time?" he asked in a snide voice.

"Yea, we've been following you around for a week, girl, you can't hide your secrets from us," said the wily blonde.

The words hardly seemed to register at first. All she could hear was the pounding in her head and the laughter from the boys as the circle around her grew tighter. The bodies of her friends were still twitching upon the sand as blood glittered like tiny red jewels all over their bodies.

"Y-y-you're vampires?" she had asked, her voice shaking.

Without missing a beat, David stepped closer and smiled, baring two sets of fangs.

"Yes," he said. "And we've been waiting for you."

Eyes blinked, catching her reflection in the foggy mirror. The moment he'd said that, it was as though all her dreams had come true. Even the death of her friends couldn't rip her away from that single, perfect moment when the darkness came over her and she felt the bite of those fangs along her neck.

Her smile was bitter.

It had been nothing but cheap tricks and lies. Nothing but servitude and death from that moment on, with only a whisper of the immortality that she no longer desired.

It was easy to imagine being a vampire, because the reality of it simply doesn't exist in fantasies the minds create. She'd never thought of killing… actually draining another person dry of their blood and feeling them struggle and beg for their lives all while it happened. Their screams echoed within her ears hours after they were dead and their corpses were either burned or tossed into the ocean for the hungry waves. David didn't discriminate either.

Men, women, even a few that were still kids were taken to the cave and seduced for a few hours before the boys grew tired of their games. Even though she tried to send silent signals and give them chances to escape, the humans never picked up on it until it was too late. In the final moments, some would run and try to break free. Others would stay and fight, getting in a few good hits that did little to stop their predators. But most, however, would simply scream.

Beg.

Plead and cry out for mercy as they were drained.

If anything, she preferred the way Paul handled his victims. The nights that he was alone with a girl in the cave, he would seduce her in every sense of the word, drawing her into the deeper portions of the fallen hotel where the only source of light was a dozen lit candles around an enormous, plush bed. There he would make love to her, taking bites here and there from her flesh while she was too preoccupied to notice. And as they reached climax, she would die and Paul would be left with a cooling corpse and that cool grin spread like the Cheshire cat, across his face.

Marko was an entirely different story. The vampire's appetite changed almost nightly though no matter what or who he was feeding on, the outcome would be one of absolute cruelty. He loved to torment them, to tease and drive them into madness before he took that final bite. Sometimes he would let them think they got away before he swooped down to pick them up, draining them in the air.

With Dwayne, the kill was usually fast and relatively painless. He wasn't picky, though there were nights when he would follow Paul's example and take a pretty girl with him back into the recesses of the cave, returning an hour or so later by himself.

And David…

Her eyes welled with tears as she moved away from the mirror towards the last, empty stall, locking herself inside and sitting on the greasy toilet, burying her face inside her hands.

She'd stayed with the boys for almost three months now, avoiding her family that had issued a missing persons report and keeping her head down and eyes cast towards the ground whenever she was in public, afraid that if she looked up and into someone's face, they'd see the horrible sins she had committed in her time staying with these monsters.

It had been on the third night that David had forced her to drink blood. Not his own, of course, but another young girl who had been staring daggers at her all night and inching her way closer to David himself. During this time, reality had still not hit quite as hard and the boys had spared her the gruesome details of the killing sprees. She'd watched the girl curiously, knowing that David was going to take blood but not how or when.

The faces of her friends and their deaths seemed more and more distant as the nights rolled on, but she would soon come face to face with the truth once more as she watched David reach up with those sensually gloved fingers and trace the pale portion of her neck before gripping it solidly.

The girl squealed and smacked him, an action that caused those fingers to tighten and a sudden, sputter of choking to enter the air. Watching her with that same, spectator's interest, David would finally lean in and let those fangs sink into the soft, fleshy portion of that neck. The girl screamed, but it was nothing but a strung-out gurgle as the blood began to flow up like a red fountain from her neck. Her eyes had been glued to the scene and mouth opened in silent horror before she felt hands on either side of her body, forcing her up and to David's side.

Pulling away, tongue slicked over pale lips as eyes turned towards her and watched amused at her struggles. In was no use. One thing about vampires that Hollywood didn't lie about was their supernatural strength. She was drug to the side of that couch where the girl still lay gasping, choking on her own blood. Her mouth was pried open and like a puppy being taught to suckle, was forced against the wound.

She'd never gotten very far in her fantasies of vampirism, no matter how obsessed she had been. She never took blood from other people and while she had cut herself a number of times and took her own, it wasn't the same taste as the hot, coppery substance filled her mouth and forced her body to wrench and recoil.

David had laughed at this and almost every two weeks since then, she'd been forced into the same routine. Whether it was for amusement or he truly was attempting to teach her to drink blood, she couldn't tell. But she couldn't take it anymore.

The lights flickered as fingers reached into her pocket and pulled out the shining, silver blade. It was old, but dangerously sharp as she'd seen one of the boys use it before on their victims, feeling more creative that night than to let their fangs show.

The razor was pulled back and the tip of the blade brought down delicately upon her skin.

David was full of shit.

When just enough pressure was applied, _anyone _could commit suicide.


	2. Chapter 2

"_There's blood in the streets it's up to my ankles…"_

The song held a greater truth to the scene before them as Paul stepped aside, allowing David to enter the cheaply forged restroom, steeped in dirty, used towels, sand and urine from all corners pasty, forbidding walls. The only splash of color came from the dark, red stream that trailed out slowly from beneath the last stall, collecting itself within every nook and crack along the floor. Blotted here and there by footprints that had already stepped in and out of the mess, leading back to blonde rocker who stood against the wall, singing the estranged ballad of Jim Morrisons' childhood. They'd all heard it at least a hundred times by now, thanks to the new boom box he'd acquired---eloquently named the Rock Box---and a dozen Doors tapes.

"_There's blood in the streets it's up to my knees…"_

Fingers tightened within black gloves, a look of disgust crossing his face though he would never be satisfied until he moved over to the dank stall and peered inside at the gruesome presence within. The girl, Melissa, dead by now and her corpse all but fermenting in the hot, summer heat. He hadn't liked her, of course. She was the kind of girl who fantasized without consequence. The kind that fell easily into the fads and wanted what she couldn't understand. David had attempted to give her what she'd always wanted and thus, had been promptly rejected by this suicide.

"_There's blood in the streets in the town of Chicago---"_

"You were suppose to have been watching her!" A snarl in his youngest brother's direction, causing those eyes to blink and come out of the trance he'd currently fallen in. David made it a rule never to invade the creature's mind unless absolutely necessary. His thoughts were burdened with the lyrics of his favorite songs, god-icons of Rock and beats that his body kept in constant rhythm with.

The rocker's eyes blinked once more before brows furrowed and a snarl replaced the once placid voice. "She said she needed to piss, David. What the fuck was I suppose to tell her, 'go right here in front of everyone?' "

For the youngest, the kid had fight in him. A sense of rebellion that would likely never be quenched, no matter how many security guards or cops he managed to kill behind David's back. Paul was a wild card by all accounts, though as the moments passed and David's own glare increased, he would begrudgingly back down.

"She was annoying anyway, man. You could have picked someone else that was a little more… shit, I don't know. Open," Paul said, eyes grazing the floor towards the stream of blood.

Though, in his own way, Paul was apologizing, David couldn't resist a final snap.

"Like those tramps you find beneath the pier, Paul? One of those real classy girls?"

Something between hurt and anger crossed the young one's face but before he could let either ride him for too long, shoulders slumped forward in a shrug.

Scoffing, he turned back towards the stall, watching the small trickles of blood grow slower and slower as the rolled against the pattern of the floor. It was cooling, growing thicker as it began to clump and dry. He could almost taste her on the air around them, and mixed with sour bacteria soap and urine, it wasn't a good combination. She hadn't been much in terms of an "accommodating" thrall, but vampires were naturally greedy and her life was suppose to end at his hands, not her own.

A glance back at Paul, gaining another shrug before he would start towards the stall.

The infectious smell grew worse as he neared it; deep blood… the kind that was pumped through the heart and a major arteries. Hand pressed against the stall door, forcing it open and for a single moment, David was truly and genuinely shocked.

The girl was sitting hunched upon the stall. In a way the looked almost as though she were still alive, though her body must have been drained quickly and death cooled the limbs to a point of stiffness that couldn't work her away from such a strange and disturbing position.

She'd cut her throat.

David had only seen the phenomenon once before but even then, he'd still refused to believe it wasn't by someone else's help. There was no need for speculation here, however, as the razor was still held by both hands that had reached up and slit the blade all the way through the muscle. The girl must have died close to instantly.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

"I told you, man. Just fucking sick…" Paul called to him from the safety of the exit.

Fingers grew tense once more, white-knuckled as he fought off the rage that was building in his chest. Honestly, he hadn't cared about her. But the attachment was still there and the idea that he might actually make the girl into a vampire, just for shits and giggles and pissing off Max all the more. Hell, the elder had mentioned the prospect of a sister, someone to keep the cave mildly clean and with fresh entertainment that wasn't the same crude and perverse jokes that Paul could come up with on a moment's notice.

That she had died here instead of by his own fangs was not only and insult to his power, it was an insult to David as well. The idea that he was perhaps… loosing his touch.

Storming from the stall, a power-pass was made towards Paul who had backed out of the exit but not quickly enough to avoid the white, hot light that burned deep within his body, paralyzing him almost completely. Or at least long enough for David to catch him and clutch that skinny throat beneath grinding fingers.

"After all of the time I put into her, you let her go off and kill herself?!" he hissed between clenched teeth.

Once the effects of his power subsided, Paul would reach up, grinding into the man's arm with his own claws and tearing the fabric of his black trench coat, thrashing and trying desperately to escape.

"Dude! She's fucking… sick… in the head…. You didn't.. care that much!" Paul rasped as blonde locks fell in front of those widening eyes.

"That's not the point!" he spat back at Paul, squeezing all the harder and wanting to feel the man's body wither.

No, he wouldn't die from lack of oxygen but that didn't mean he could escape the pain of a crushed esophagus.

As the rocker's claws dug deeper however, he would feel the slight knick of them against his bone and one final, grueling twist, would have the young creature on the ground, spitting up blood and cursing David with every pore of his body.

"You… fucking… bastard…" he gasped, in between gurgles of blood.

David was uncompromising as he stared down at the man, feeling the rage subside somewhat, but not enough to spare Paul any less of his cruelty.

"I told you to watch her closely and you couldn't even do that," he growled, kicking his boot towards the man to which Paul would swipe at with those same, blood-stained claws.

Waiting until the rocker's eyes found their courage to stare up through the messy array of those wilting locks, a smile of pure sinister evil would spread across David's face.

"I guess I'm going to have to make sure it doesn't happen again."


	3. Chapter 3

_Delicate._

_A fragile body dressed in white, sleeveless vest, a silk skirt that dangled beads with a scarf patterned in different colors and designs, torn slightly around the edges from fingers constantly picking at the seams. Her hair was dark; a deep chestnut with hints of red that could only be seen if the lighting were just right and the curls were tame. Tonight, however, there was no such color. Darkness had wrapped itself around the young girl's form and though she should have been afraid, the sense of naive innocence kept her from understanding it's true evil. _

_**The darkness enfolded the light and the light knew it not.**_

_The room around her was sparse; a few chairs left and right while hundreds upon hundreds of candles circled around her, creating an eerie, breath-taking glow. The centerpiece, however, was a large vanity mirror that sat upon a table that was laid out with several jewelry boxes, bottles of perfume and makeup. _

_The girl was immediately taken by such a sight, lavishing at first over the wood that surrounded the mirror's frame, fingers brushing over the intricate carvings of cupids and cherub-like angels that were frozen in time, blowing kisses and playing harps. Seducing the young girl further and further into the darkness._

_After a moment, she stood in front of the mirror and studied herself in it's reflection. _

_A sour look crossed her face, seeing nothing more than an ordinary girl with frizzy dark hair, pale lips and brown eyes that were only beautiful set against the firelight. Fingers tweezed against the sides of her skirt, growing angry at the reflection and looking away, down towards the table with the makeup and glittering jewelry._

_Her expression changed. _

_It was something closer to child-like delight and nervous fear, as though wondering who such fineries belonged to. It was short-lived, however, as fingers began to pluck and pry at the boxes, revealing beaded bracelets, jeweled rings and a dozens of earrings, all set in organized piles as though waiting patiently to be chosen. _

_She reached for a gold bracelet and paused. The hairs rose slowly against her neck, as though a sudden presence had entered the room and was now watching with a sense of hungry curiosity, waiting to see what she would do. Her heart pounded, blood rose to her ears. Her eyes glanced back to the mirror, watching the flicker of candles as they danced to the cool breeze that brushed along her arms, sending chills and goosebumps through her body. _

_  
It was a warning. _

_But the girl was too fascinated to disguise her intentions any longer. The bracelet was slipped over her thin wrist and held in place. And suddenly…there was nothing to fear. _

_Several more would follow, chiming in soft, elegant tunes as they fell together along her arms. Rings were set against her fingers, switching here and there and admired for some time before she began to search for her earrings. All the while, the presence was there. Watching… waiting… __**encouraging **__her in silent whispers and cool patterns of breath._

_After a time, she would smile as she looked back into the mirror, admiring herself in jewelry she chose… but there was something still missing. Her face was still plain; not unattractive, but unfit to present the jewels that she wore. The boxes were closed and attentions were turned to the makeup that sat in a half-hazard display, as though someone had just finished using it and forgot to put it all back. _

_The candles gutted, the presence was very interested now. Her eyes turned from one thing to the next, a sense of nervousness returning though it stayed no longer than a moment as she reached for the blush. The brush smoothed over and over her cheeks, applying the rose-colored makeup before attentions turned to eyeliner and shadow, choosing a deep burgundy to make those once ordinary eyes take on a new fire._

_As she did so, the face in the mirror began to change. It was no longer the young, innocent girl with delicate features, but a temptress. Dark and seductive with a hunger that burned deep within those gleaming eyes. _

_There was just one thing missing… _

_Lipstick._

_There were several shades, some left uncapped and slightly used. A tissue sat near by with smudges along its surface and imprints of other lips that had pressed against it. She disliked these. Their colors were too ordinary, too bland. Her lips were pale and needed to be brought out fully to satisfy the presence watching within the shadows. _

_Eyes searched until they fell upon a small, clear container with a bright, splash of red inside. Picking it up and studying it, brows furrowed as she noted the substance inside was liquid. Hardly lip-gloss or any kind of eye shadow. But the color was so bright… like a ruby set against the glow of the candles._

_Curiosity won out. The container was opened and the tip of a finger was set inside. The candles became still._

_Staring into the mirror, the girl began to rub the substance along her lips, watching as they turned from pale pink to a dark and sinister red. Dipping once more, she continued the outline of her lips, letting the cool substance settle and watching as a thin trail slid ever so slowly down her chin. _

_It seemed, strangely, to fit._

_The image was complete. The candles relaxed as another breeze surfaced, though this time it was followed by the sound of footsteps, walking steadily along the ground. _

_She was captivated by the image in the mirror. Her image. The dark colors made the paleness of her skin shine against the candlelight, her eyes ever hungry and lips still submerged in that deep, red water._

_Before long, the steps grew closer and closer… coming up from behind the girl and wrapping an arm about her form. _

_A man. _

_Pale fingers dove within those dark curls, lavishing in their silkiness as nails dug along her scalp, filling her body with a tingling pleasantness that made her shiver all over. The hand continued as it reached her back, caressing gently along her shoulders and coming to wrap around that delicate throat, bare of any necklace or obstruction. _

_His face was blurred by the darkness, but sensual lips would rise up and gently kiss along her temple, causing another brief shiver before body relaxed and fell more into his own. _

_  
The kisses continued downwards, brushing over her cheeks and the small trail of red that had dripped along her chin. Drinking in her beauty as though it were his own for the taking before finally reaching her---_

"Dad! Tell Roselyn that it's my turn with the tape player! She's been hogging it all day!"

The car bounced and swerved, knocking the old woman from her dream as weary, black eyes opened and face pulled up from it's cushion of stark, white hair that pressed against her cheek, sopped together with sweat and drool.

From the backseat, there was a commotion. Star's face, angry and sweat-drenched, as she reached once more for the tape player and was shoved back against the seat by her older sister Roselyn. Older by two years though one would never guess it, watching the two of them together.

From the front, their father (her son), gripped the steering wheel tightly and glared into the rearview mirror.

"I've had enough of this! Star, sit back and be quiet, we're only five miles away," he said.

Crossing her arms, Star fell back against the seat, glaring daggers at her sister before turning her attention to the window where a large sign was passing overhead.

Welcome to Santa Carla.


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me make sure I understand… you want _me _to take _Paul _down to Nevada for the _Gathering? _Tell me David, did you slip in that restroom and land on your head?"

He didn't know why Max insisted on wearing those goddamn glasses all the time. He wasn't human--he didn't need them. The lenses were clear and used only for vanity purposes of appearing mortal around his customers at the video store as well as wooing his prey into a false sense of much needed security.

Because honestly, if the grueling fangs and yellow eyes didn't scare them off, his brazen, multi-colored shirts and tacky ties, would.

David leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and doing his best to fight off the urge to tell the elder to "go fuck himself."

"You're always talking about having this big blood-sucking clan, Max. And yet you and Paul have never gotten a chance to really bond or know each other. I think it would be a good opportunity for you to teach him some of the things that I can't. Like how to follow orders…" a glance was given to the sullen fledgling as he spoke.

For once, the rocker was subdued… as much as he could be in such a situation. Blonde hair was brushed over his eyes and somewhat wilted as body sat in a hunched on the counter, boot barely tapping against the edge while eyes glanced up only here and there to glare at David while mouth formed a silent, angry "no" at his suggestion.

David's answer was a seconds, stifling glare before eyes turned back to Max who seemed, for once, to be considering his words. Though they tormented the old vampire, challenged his authority (though lightly) on several grounds and made his human life seem as though it were a living hell, the man was trying to cultivate a loyal clan of his own line. Large enough to fight back should another Master enter their territory and attempt to take over.

David and the rest of the boys were loyal, but Max had never truly gotten to know Paul at all before he was turned. The kid was a wild child, a creature left over from the seventies that had adapted so completely to the new, rebellious rock era that it was scarcely believable that he had ever been human at all.

Not to mention, he pulsed with a fresh, developing strength. Something that would be handy in the years to come, if he stood by his brothers and accepted Max as his Master.

David knew he had the man. And also knew that a couple of weeks without his youngest would be spent in some much needed peace and quiet, enough to where he could figure out how and why things had gone so wrong with the human. And why he felt so torn at her demise.

Not at her death, per se, but at the fact that it had ended in her own hands instead of his. That maybe he was beginning to loose his touch, even though the notion was absolute insanity.

He needed to take his anger and vengeance out on something and unfortunately, it had been Paul's turn to watch the girl that night.

Max tapped a finger against his chin, considering. "It would be good to show him more of his own kind… get him away from this town and it's craziness for awhile."

David was unmoving, though eyes gleamed with a hint of knowing. "Exactly."

For the first time, Paul's face betrayed the emotions that was bubbling inside. Sudden, intense anguish followed by anger and rage that was aimed against David, but now starting to stream towards Max as well, so long as the man wasn't looking. David felt no pity for him. By all accounts, what he was doing was completely reasonable and within his power. And it would do Paul some good to be away for awhile and see the rest of the world.

The kid had barely ever made it past the city limits, even in his human life. Most vampires grew very independent in their younger years, realizing the endless possibilities around them and wanting to leach the world for all it was worth.

Paul, however, didn't need the world. He didn't need the glorious sights, sounds or extended culture. All he needed was his music, his bike and his blood.

The moments drew on, causing Paul to grow ever more impatient and hopeful that Max would suddenly change his mind and not want him to go along with him on such a trip. David knew he could handle being grounded to the cave. The fledgling had only just discovered the mental capabilities of calling prey to him and now such a punishment was hardly worth putting up the mind-barriers and confusion, forbidding him from reaching the outside world.

Leather creaked lightly in the silence as he switched legs, waiting for the inevitable--

"Fine. I'll take him along," he said, pushing up those glasses and fixing his gaze upon the now distraught Paul.

A finger pointed in the fledgling's direction. "But you will listen to me and abide by my rules or I swear, David's punishment will seem like a cakewalk compared to what I will put you through."

And so saying, an image passed between the three of them: Paul hanging upside-down by his ankles as small cuts were made all around his body, letting the blood drain to a point where the wounds could no longer heal or body sustain any sense of life.

For the first time, David felt a sense of sympathy for his brother. Knowing such a punishment all too well and that Paul's "best behavior" wouldn't come close to Max's expectations.

Still, the young had to learn.

Pushing off from the counter, he would nod.

"Good, he'll stay with you tonight so that you can both leave early tomorrow," David grinned, giving a final glance to Paul with a salute before he started for the door.

"Have a good time on your trip."

And with that, he was out the door.

* * *

Just like that.

His immortal life was over.

What the _fuck!_

How the hell was he suppose to spend one night, let alone two fucking weeks with a man that had no taste in clothing, blood or rock music? He would die, plain and simple. A long, agonizing death brought on by the smell of those clove cigarettes, classical music and the embarrassment of being seen in public with a man that would be thought of as his father.

And all because some bitch rubbed David's ego the wrong way by taking her own life. David should have been proud of this fact! Not many could push a girl so completely over the edge, yet still get laid night after night.

Hands clenched into fists, nails biting into the palm of his hand as he avoided looking at Max for as long as possible. He could feel the man studying him, taking in his reaction and gathering the necessary knowledge to use against him when the time was right.

All too much like David and now he could see where his brother got it from.

"Well," Max started, spreading his hands. "We might as well get this out of the way as soon as possible. Tomorrow night we will get started out on the road and reach Las Vegas before sunrise. We will be attending what is known as a Gathering, and during this event, you will be on your very, very…" A hard look. ".. _very _best behavior. Do you understand, Paul?"

He was met with a sullen stare and a shrug.

"That means no loud music, no hunting or killing without permission. You will do what I tell you, when I tell you and you'll keep your mouth shut unless it has something intelligent to say."

A pause as the elder took a moment to consider.

"Anything intelligent that doesn't include rock music, sex or feeding."

"Well why don't you just fucking sew my mouth shut?" the rocker exclaimed.

He was met with a dark look.

"Don't tempt me, Paul."

Fingers ground deeper, feeling the barest pinpricks of blood surfacing though forcing his comments to the back of his throat, trying hard not to pout or look as though he wanted to scream. How could David do this? How could he honestly and truly care about Paul if he forced him to go along with Max to this… this…

"What's a Gathering?"

Looking up from the cash-register and a stack of one-dollar bills, their eyes met and for once, the elder vampire wasn't criticizing.

He honestly seemed surprised that Paul had asked.

"It's an event that takes place roughly around every ten years or so. Vampires from all corners of the world meet in a chosen location and spend time renewing old bonds and treaties, making sure that everything is in order," he said, turning his attention back to the bills.

"In reality, it's mostly politics. But occasionally fledglings are brought along for amusement and education. The world for us, doesn't solely consist on blood and constant partying, Paul."

It sounded boring. But the way Max had spoken of it caught his attention. He could smell that fire anywhere.

"Is there any entertainment brought in?" he asked.

Max paused once more in his counting, hesitating before he looked back at the fledgling and shed a half-smile.

"Well… it's not _all_ about simple bond-renewing."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, long time no post. Sorry for the delay, a lot of things came up in my personal life and I needed to take some time off to deal with them. I should be speeding up here from now on.**

* * *

August heat.

Near the ocean it wasn't so bad but deep within the boardwalk, surrounded on all sides by hot bodies of dripping sweat and sexuality, the rush of warmth was fierce. 

Tan skin, fluorescent bikinis, hair dyed every different color of the rainbow and styled in eccentric fashions that would make even the humblest of humans blush. She couldn't help but feel as though she stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone here seemed beautiful, exotic and deviously wild while she was a Plain Jane in a white t-shirt, tight jeans and hair that was like a dead poodle, festering on top of her head. 

Santa Carla. 

The semi-quiet beach community whose economy was based solely on tourism during the summer; bringing in fresh faces to the boardwalk and various amusement rides that smelled of plastic and burning oil. Families walked together, armed with cotton candy, beach towels and a camera at their side, ready to snap a photo at a moments notice and pretend as though things here were absolutely normal. That this was a fun vacation spot instead of a cheap one. 

Silently, she wished she was apart of one of these families, destined to stay for a few days in the hot, summer sun, work on her tan, win a few prizes from the booths and eventually go home. 

But that was the problem: she had no home. 

The only true sense of it came with their old, beat up station wagon. The very same that she could remember her mother sitting in, up front with the windows rolled down and her head sticking out, catching the cool currents of air that passed through her long, lustrous black hair. 

It was a fantasy, of course. 

Star's mother had died giving birth to Star herself, but she'd always carried that false memory in hopes that it was somehow true. And ever since then, the only consolation she received, moving from place to place, was the car itself as well as the pounds of books in her knapsack and a small, private journal she kept with the innermost thoughts of her tormented teenage heart.

Her feet hurt by the time she made it back to the wagon where her father was sitting on the hood, eating a sandwich while her grandmother muttered hex's against the locals. 

To the untrained eye, they appeared every inch of the hippie refugees that were spread out through California. Her father's hair was long and unruly, usually tied back into a pony-tail by the use of several rubber bands while the front of his face sported a long, tangled goatee. Despite this, his eyes were a soft shade of blue and usually smiling as they stared out at the passing crowds of people, as though he sharing in some private joke that others couldn't understand. 

Her grandmother was an entirely different story. Old and beaten down by age, the woman carried a slight hunch on her back while face was marred with deep gouges and lines that stretched over shrunken features and black, beady eyes. Her hair was a river of white, flowing down the edge of her shoulders and never placed back into any kind of tie. Her wrinkled hands wrung together, often carrying beads or tarot cards--her sacred talismans that she could not ever be without. 

Often times, she would walk through the towns they stayed in, offering fortune-telling to those that were willing to listen to a garlic-breathed old hag and pay the sum of five dollars to know if there was love, luck or fame in their futures. 

Star detested her. 

If there was any reason why they didn't look normal, why the constantly moved around California and the southern states, it was all because of her. After staying in a single place for too long, she would receive "bad vibes" and announce they needed to move on. Her father had long since stop putting up any kind of a struggle and hence, they never bought any kind of house or stable foundation and usually rented out a one-room apartment in the shittiest part of town. Or, if they were close to the ocean, they would simply camp out on the beach, putting up tents or sleeping under the stars with all the other homeless and deviants that couldn't afford to live anywhere else. 

Had they done this when her mother was alive?

A greasy hand brushed through her hair, forcing it away from her eyes before they caught sight of her sister up ahead. Five minutes in this town and she had already caught sight of a boy and was talking to him as she walked slowly back to the wagon. 

Unlike Star herself, Rose attracted attention wherever she went. Dark-skinned, beautiful black hair that was straight and silky and deep eyes that could swallow a person whole. She was everything that Star wasn't and naturally, the favorite of their small, twisted family. 

Eyes cast back down to the journal, holding it steadily while a bleeding pen scratched over it's surface.

**August 2, 1985**

**I hate this place already. **

**The town seemed pretty nice when we first pulled in, but now, seeing the boardwalk and all it has to offer, I wished we'd just stayed in Santa Ann. **

**Everywhere around me, there are kids with shaved heads, multi-colored hair and surfboards, crowding the boardwalk and the beach. It smells mostly like dead fish and burning rubber, mixed in with greasy food that they're selling on sticks from a shop near us. **

**It's so hot, I can barely breathe and Dad says that it does Gram's nerves good to be in a warmer climate, near the ocean where she can sit at night and pray. **

**I bet within a week, we'll move again. **

The book closed as a shadow fell across it and gaze lifted to meet her sister's own. 

A smile was flushed against those tan cheeks and sparkling, brown eyes. 

"This town rocks! I hope we never leave!" Rose exclaimed.

The best she could manage was a shrug.


	6. Chapter 6

"Please tell me you're not joking."

The sun had barely begun to set and already, Marko was awake. Like Paul, he was an early riser and for a time before the fledgling's creation, he'd had the cave all to himself in the twilight hours before the night came fully. Now, he was forced to endure Paul, walking around the cave in nothing but a pair of worn boxers, playing scratched records on the old, wind-up player or blaring new-age rock music on his newest possession, The Rock Box. 

Some nights he could stand it and others he just wanted to hurl the young fledgling out into the dying sun. He wouldn't burn completely… but hopefully enough to get the point across.

David's eyes slit open, hardly coherent enough to hear the question Marko had asked, let alone answer it. All he managed was a brief, upside-down nod and a shuffle of those shoulders as he tried to close his jacket further around his body. 

Paul was gone. 

For two weeks! 

Stuck with Max as his punishment for not keeping a closer eye on David's plaything. It hardly seemed like a fair trade but at the same time, he didn't give a rat fuck. Two weeks of freedom from rambling, stoner monologue, the tireless music and the constant squeak of metal springs in the back of the cave, matched with crooning moans or loud, terrifying screams. 

Two weeks!

Feet unhooked themselves from the rafters, spinning upright in the air before landing upon the ground in a single swoop. A smile was plastered to his face as he moved to retrieve his boots in the corner, setting each to their designated foot before making his way towards the main portion of the cave. He needed to celebrate this temporary freedom from the blonde, rock-infusion. 

Not that he didn't like Paul or enjoy being his brother in blood… it was just… tiring.

Very, _very _tiring. 

Gaze swept through the shadows as he entered the main cave. Moss was brushed from blonde curls and slender shoulders that were for once, free of their vibrant, hand-stitched jacket. Unlike the others, Marko was the youngest in human appearance, having been turned at the tender age of seventeen in Paris. The world had been a different place during those times; dark and cryptic, full of mystery and superstition that warranted serious consequences if it wasn't followed.

The art and music was better too. Not the constant scream of metal-clashing guitars or heavy, ear-shattering drums and chimes. But real, thought-out and created concerts of every type of sound and instrument imaginable. 

Avoiding the front of the cave where the light still gathered in soft patterns of pink, orange and deep red, he moved toward the back past the gathering of couches, beds and other assorted chunks of furniture found within the hotel and other areas. David's wheelchair had actually been stolen from a retirement home and Marko was sworn to secrecy on how he had obtained it.

In the very back, separated from the world by a single, dirty curtain that had been draped over a fallen rafter, two girls lied whimpering on a dusty mattress coated in a greasy film of sea-water and pigeon shit. Around each neck was a collar crafted of scrap metal and hooked to two chains that were somehow bolted to the wall. 

Paul and Dwayne's handiwork. Both were close enough to their human pasts to enjoy the sight of suffering, though it was mildly entertaining and allowed him a short, before-meal snack. 

The two unlucky victims this week: a pale-skinned girl with flaming red hair, freckled shoulders and bony limbs that hugged against her bare body that was covered sparingly by a single sheet. The second, a young, dark-skinned native with short, black hair and bite marks up and down her breasts and shoulders. Reeking of Dwayne. 

Both were naked save for the tangle of sheets between them, hardly enough to keep each girl warm. Near them was a bucket of greenish water and upon closer inspection, Marko was able to smell the salt that was mixed within it. Sea-water. 

Brilliant Paul.

The girls were likely going crazy from hunger, blood-loss and dehydration. Though Marko couldn't honestly feel any sense of sympathy for them, seeing as how they had both walked into this situation quite willingly. 

They had been party girls, looking for the next big thrill. And unfortunately, they had stumbled across the paths of both Paul and Dwayne who had a habit of hunting together on nights when nothing else seemed to spark either boy's interest. Taken back to the cave, they were likely courted and conned into placing the collars on themselves, to which, they were left there and used for almost a week now.

And while he couldn't touch the dark-skinned beauty (for fear the wrath of Dwayne), the redhead had no real claims upon her and was the weakest of the two as she shivered and moaned softly in her sleep. Again, pity was somewhat alien but fingers reached out and gently stroked along her back, causing those shudders to increase before soft, green eyes opened and stared up at the shadow above her.

"P-p-please… no.. no more," she stuttered.

Reaching down, the lock upon the collar was snapped off while fingers continued their exploration of that fragile skin and pooling, red hair. She was a young, like him. Around eighteen years old and her whole life wasted on parties, drinking and vampires. Her eyes remained closed as he reached further along her body, propping up a neck that was already heavily bruised and bitten. He found a clean spot and hesitating only once, he bit down, into her flesh. 

A small gasp was all he got in reply and after only two sips, the girl was dead. 

Humans were such breakable things.


	7. Chapter 7

"So why can't I sit in the front, again?"

The car moved gracefully over the road, dodging bumps and potholes with ease while the wind pressed up against the electronically controlled windows and howled it's solemn complaints. And it wasn't the only thing that was complaining.

The stay at Max's house had been hell. Despite all the various gimmicks, lights and amusements (not to mention TV!), Paul had been forbidden to touch anything or even stare at objects for long periods of time, lest he cooked up a half-assed scheme to mess with them while Max's back was turned. He felt like a little kid again. His hand had been slapped so many times that the barest imprints of a bruise had formed along his bony knuckles and now he wasn't even allowed to sit into the front seat where he could bid his time and change the current station that Max was on that played nothing but goddamn classical music.

Like piano's and flutes and shit.

All of which were making him tired and pissed at the world.

The vampire didn't even glance in the rearview mirror to answer Paul's question.

"I told you, Paul. It's for your own protection. We wouldn't want you to go through the windshield, now would we?" he asked, pleasantly.

Crossing his arms, Paul huffed loudly. "Fuck, are you that afraid you're going to crash?"

Again, without looking at him. "No. But I'm afraid that after five minutes of trying to stop you from messing with my radio, I would hurl you through it."

Eyes widened.

Was he serious?

There were a lot of things about Max that Paul had always wondered about. Like for instance, why a video store? If Paul was a vampire and that old, he would buy a spooky-old mansion on top of some deserted hill that over looked a village and every night, would pluck random victims from their beds and keep them alive until amusement from their screams ran out. Or until the hunger got to him.

But Max wasn't like that. He was more social, preferring to spend his evenings in the store with customers, smiling at the women who crossed his path and offering lollipops to the kids that were brought along with them.

He guessed that there was something charming about the man and those weird-ass glasses he wore.

Well… there was _something_, anyway.

Another loud sigh as he fell back against the plush, blue seats. One week, six days and twenty-hours left of this torture and he would be free to ride once again. Free to kick David's ass for sending him on this idiotic trip to Las Vegas to go to some fucking vampire convention.

What the fuck could other vampires possibly have to talk about?

"_Well, I think it's better to drain a victim from the wrist because it's slower and allows you to catch more of the blood's flavor."_

_  
"I disagree, it's better to take it from the neck or thigh, that way you get a faster rush and don't have to listen to them scream quite so much."_

Seriously. What else could there be to talk about?

"Territory, for one thing, Paul. Each vampire Master who has enough strength and will to hold his or her own, is able to take and keep land for themselves and their chosen. We have these meetings to discuss preliminaries, refresh boundaries and to settle old debts, to say the least."

Eyes blinked and widened once more.

"Were you reading me?" he scoffed.

This time, the elder's eyes met with Paul's own in the small, rectangular glass. "You think your shields are enough to keep out one such as myself, Paul?"

Mouth opened to fire back but the look Max gave him was enough to reach down his throat, tear out his vocal cords and wrap them back around Paul's neck in a bloody choker. Actually… that would be pretty cool…

Another heavy sigh as he heaved himself back against the plush, velvet seat. If there was one thing good about Max's car, it was the comfy space and leg room so that at least, he could stretch out some. Gaze idly fell back to the scenery that was passing by. There wasn't much: desert followed by thick shrubs and more desert. Sand and dirt that had dusted out along the edges of the road and the occasional pass of headlights and hitch-hikers, holding out thumbs and their "GOING TO VEGAS" signs.

"Hey, do you think we could pick a few of them up?" he asked as they passed the third hitch-hiker; a wiry man with a thick goatee, cropped hair and a tired look in his eyes. "I'm hungry."

He didn't need to look into that mirror to see the disgust play across Max's face. While not a lot was known about his personal life, Paul had heard that the man had a stable of victims that he kept in various relationships around Santa Carla. Never taking too much from one woman and hardly ever killing--according to Marko. It seemed like a smart idea, though Paul lusted after the kill in the same way he lusted for girls and weed and parties. It was a rush of energy and life, a high that was like no other.

The wiry hitchhiker was passed without even a sideways glance.

"We'll grab something to eat later Paul. Something that isn't reeking of piss."

A grumble and yet another heavy sigh. This was turning out to be a fan-fucking-tastic trip.

* * *

_It was eerie… the look on her face when he had found her. _

_Almost serene, like she was taking the best damn trip of her life as the blood poured out of her mangled throat and created a small river along the floor. He'd stepped in right as it was happening. Right as he felt her heartbeat surge as the blade was taken up and swallowed within pale flesh. _

_The blood spurt wildly from the wound, marking up the walls and surrounding tiles. Even his jacket had been saturated in the thick, arterial blood and smell. Maybe that's what drove David up the wall. Maybe he thought that Paul had taken her for himself and cleverly disguised the scene as a suicide with a cut throat and blood all over the floor. _

_But that was fucking insane._

_Sure, he didn't like the girl, but he also didn't go messing around with David's shit. No matter how big her tits were. He was just fucking mad that Paul got to witness her death first hand and that he hadn't taken the blood for himself. _

_Prick._

The car lurched to a stop, throwing Paul out of his dazed speculation and into the passenger seat. Thankfully, it was just as cushioned as the rest of the car and vampires were somewhat immune to head-trauma.

"I keep telling you to buckle up, Paul," Max stated as he put the vehicle in park and made to unclasp his own seatbelt.

A scowl.

"Well, maybe if you didn't drive like a fucking psychopath!" he seethed as he pushed himself back and caught sight of the flashing lights above.

Aces and Jacks. A highway casino that rested just on the other side of a gas-station. Made to provide comfort for the weary traveler with time to kill or a gambling addiction.

Not bad.

"Alright," Max said, stepping out of the car. "Let's make this as quick and painless as possible."

Rolling his eyes, Paul followed in suit. "Yea, man. God forbid we'd have any kind of fun."

* * *

The room itself was smoky; a wooden entrapment filled with an aging stools, chairs and various tables that were all somehow slanted towards one side. A number of slot machines that looked to have dated back to the 1930s and a bar with what looked like every poison known to man kept up on a shelf of multi-colored bottles and glasses, most of which were missing their labels.

It was definitely Paul's preferred territory.

The smell of rancid smoke and nicotine coating the air mixed with pool chalk and human sweat. The kind that seemed to grow the further they stepped into the room, causing hearts to race with a sudden fear that they didn't understand.

There were five potential victims in all: a petite brunette that looked to be in her mid-to-late thirties with soft, doe eyes and pouting lips that were beginning to droop due to age. She stood behind the bar itself, next to a man with a gray buzz cut and hardened, black eyes that looked to have seen his fair share of chaos over the years. Likely a soldier left over from Vietnam that suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or whatever the fuck they were calling the Vet psychotic's today. The third was a burly man in the back, both muscle and gut that spanned the height of six-feet with a mop top of blonde black hair that poured down, over his disgruntled face. The fourth was a wiry man that stood in the corner, chalking his pool stick and watching as his partner made shot after shot without missing a single ball.

And the fifth… an eighty-year old geezer, sitting at one of the slot machines with a cup full of quarters and a shaking fingers, idly pressing the buttons and watching the colorful lights spin.

After a stiff silence, the woman smiled and set aside her cigarette and magazine, making her way around the bar to direct them to a table. Gum popped between her teeth as she spoke.

"Cook's out tonight, so I can't bring you any menus but you fellas are sure welcome to order something to drink," she said, her gum snapping.

For a moment, he considered playing along. Hell, if it could get him a couple of shots of Gin, it could make the rest of the trip all that more bearable. A glance to Max, however, and the plan was instantly crushed under those sharp, blue eyes staring out from beneath glass lenses.

"_In and out, Paul. Let's not make a show of this," _spoken directly to his mind.

"_Yea, yea." _

And without missing a beat, a hand clasped to the woman's wrist, dragging her down to sit directly in his lap. She covered her shock with laughter and Paul grinned his most charming smile.

"Only if I get to have a little taste of you first," growled beneath his breath.

She must have been use to this as she laughed more and tried to pull herself back to her feet.

"Sorry hon, you'd have to ask my boyfriend first and I don't reckon he'd let you," she said, struggling to break free.

A glance towards Max, watching as the man rolled his eyes and tried to cover the smile that was tracing against his lips. All too quickly, Paul felt the sudden urge to show off.

"Oh yea? Well, if he wants you back, he's gonna have to come over and take you back," he said, all mock and bravo.

"Sweetie, I don't think you--" she started, the laughter leaving her lips.

"Hey, you hittin' on my woman?"

The voice was like the crackling sound of thunder, echoing somewhere overhead. Arms released the woman, watching as she toppled like a rag doll to the floor before eyes glanced up to see the giant that had been near the pool table, suddenly standing behind him. How he had managed to make his way across the bar with such grace and speed, Paul would never know. Though pride and a desperate need to impress Max gripped him as he stood and turned to face the human.

He was even bigger up close.

"That your woman?" Paul asked, tilting his head towards the scowling waitress on the floor.

The man's hands would have been large enough to crush Paul's skull as he stepped closer. "I asked you, are you _hittin' _on my _woman?"_

"Frank, let it go. The kid's a punk, he didn't mean anything by it," the bartender shouted.

Licking his lips, Paul stepped closer to the man and looked him square in the eye.

"I bet she's a good fuck, isn't she?" he asked, venom tracing his words.

For a moment, the man seemed genuinely stunned. Not many had likely ever come in with more balls than Paul had. Let alone shit for brains.

He used the other's silence to press his point. "I bet she's had her legs wrapped around so much cock that even a big fucker like you can't ever satisfy her."

It was the final straw. The breaking point as the man let loose a half curse, half bark as he reached to his side and withdrew a long, razor-edged knife. A least six inches in length, which was probably compensating for other aspects in the man's life.

There was little time to reflect on such matters, however, as the blade sliced through the air, causing the woman to scream and the bartender to shout once.

Too easy.

Before the knife managed to hit it's mark (somewhere along Paul's shoulder), the wrist was snatched and using the human's own momentum against him, the blade was plunged deeply into the man's neck.

Silence once again. Though disrupted by the subtle sounds of shock and choking on his own blood that began to run in small streams from the wound. Still smiling, Paul gently helped the man remove the blade and took a moment to lick along the shining, red and silver surface like a kid enjoying the brownie batter, left on he spoon.

"Fuck, you humans make it too easy."


End file.
